Tears for my flowers
by littlemissmuffit
Summary: Kurt tries to find the right flower to give to his mother. Bad summary, please read and review. One-shot.


**Hello! I wrote this for my English class, but I think it also makes a good fan fiction. Here it is, enjoy!**

**I don't own any of the Character, blah, blah, blah... Ok now enjoy! **

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><p>Tears for my flower<p>

It was a tranquil summer's day. It's the type of day where you hang out with your best friend in the cool shad trying to evade the glaring sunlight, as it scorches you from head to toe. This is the day for sweet lemonade, chilled ice cream and swimming pools. Kurt loved summer days like this, they always fill him up with a type of delight that he couldn't describe. It also felt like God was laughing right in his face, not caring about how much today sunlight was hurting him. He made his way out into the back garden where his mother grew her prize-winning white chrysanthemum they where her favorite flower. She loved the other flowers too, but the white chrysanthemum flower was her favorite. So it seems somehow right to bring one of these chrysanthemums with him. He grabbed the flower clipper lying on top on the table next to the chrysanthemums garden, and tried to find the right chrysanthemum to clip.

It was a black, starless night. A perfect night from what he recalled. They were getting into their car; a little 2006 Honda Civic. "Mom," he complained "can we stay for five more minutes? That all I'm asking, just five more minutes!"

"No, your father is probably worried sick about us. I told him we would be home at ten; it's almost 11:30."

"Fine," Kurt huffed as he climbed into the car

The first chrysanthemum he saw was too delicate; he knew it would break on the car ride there. Kurt looked around, most of the chrysanthemum hadn't fully bloom yet; he couldn't clip these chrysanthemums before they have even had a chance at life. His mother always told him, the worst thing he could do was take something life before it had a chance to live. He had to hold back tears at this thought; it was too painful to think about life right now. Then he saw it, the prefect chrysanthemum was looking back at him. He knew his mother would love this chrysanthemums; this was the one he had to bring. He looked up to sky, the bright sun was moving behind a black storm cloud.

Kurt opened the clipper and held the chrysanthemum stem lightly between his fingers; which were quivering as he tried to grip the flower. He focused on his mother's last lesson on how to cut the chrysanthemum. It was only two day age; only two days ago they stood together in this very garden. Two days ago everything change; everything became different.

Kurt could barely keep his eyes open. The world was becoming increasingly darker and smaller, but as the color grew smaller and the blackness grew bigger something was becoming louder and clearer; his mother singing voice. She had an astonishingly sweet voice, which was slowly rocking him to sleep. Kurt closed his eyes allowing his mother's voice to consume him every thought. Then the voice stop and was replaced by a scream. Kurt quickly opens his eyes to see a bright white light coming toward them.

Tear began to flow from his eyes staining his white shirt. The black, dark storm clouds completely cover the sun. He turned and looked at the chrysanthemum closely. It was the embodiment of beauty; the soft white petals were reaching out. It was if they were calling him, they drew him into a world that filled him with pain. He dropped the clippers; he couldn't do it. This chrysanthemum, this symbol of every picturesque and virtuous in the world, It was too much like her. Another gust of wind blew by; with it the voice of his mother flew by.

"KURT…." She screamed. She tried to grab his hand…but the truck crashed into them before she could reach him. Then everything went black again, but this black wasn't peaceful; it was filled with pain. Snaps, bangs and a crunching noise clouded him mother's voice.

"MOM," Kurt cried "Mom?" He saw her lying limp over the wheel.

Kurt tried to shake the voices from his head. He went to go sit under the big weeping willow next to the garden. He looked out into the garden that his mother worked so hard to keep; he started to cry. He had been so strong for his father's sake, but he was finally alone and had time to process the horrible event that have consumed his thoughts for the last few days.

"Kurt… are you ready to go?" his father yelled from the house.

"Yes, just give me a second" Kurt stood up as the first drops of rain began to fall. He took one last look at the chrysanthemum, and walked away; leaving the beautiful flower behind.

All he could see was broken glass, it was everywhere. Sharp pieces slimmer the flashing lights. Twisted black steel was covering the ground. The two cars were now intertwined as if they were wrestling. Thick clouds of smoke and steam were clouding out the oxygen. Light were flashing, horns were honking, people were mumbling; it was becoming too much. Then he saw the blood; it was bright red, sticky and warm. It was seeping though his shirt coving his hand, as he tried to stop the bleeding. He turned weakly to his mother; who was becoming blurry the longer he looked at her. He blinked and tried to clear his vision, and then he saw her. His mother's white dress was turn red, bright red. Everything started to spin together. Then he saw nothing…

When Kurt woke up he was lying in a bed. He could feel the soft white sheets under his hands. The room was also white. Under the florescent lights everything seemed to have a pearly luminosity to it. Something was tape to the top of his hand; a needle was protruding from his hand. Several machine quietly hummed away. His father was securely griping his other hand. "Dad..." Kurt mumbled slowly

"Kurt…don't talk. It's okay." his father said inaudibly, as he was trying to hold back tears.

"Where's mom?" he asked.

His father just looked at him and didn't say anything. He started to cry, and Kurt knew that his mother had left this world. His mother was dead. This wonderful, beautiful woman was gone. She died intently on impact.

He climbed into the black car with his farther. Tears were still rolling softly down his cheeks. He turned to his father who gave his a beautiful white chrysanthemum. "I know how much you want to give one to her." He said softly

"Yes, I was going the one from the garden, but I couldn't kill it." Kurt said coldly.

"I know what you mean."

"It… was so beautiful, just like her. I couldn't kill it. Like how he killed her." Kurt cried even harder, as his father grabbed his soft, pale hands with his rough, grimy hands.

"It's okay, Kurt. It's okay" His father said thought his tears.

They pulled up to the cemetery where his mother was already buried. The rain was pouring as Kurt and his father crossed the field to where is mother lied in the ground. Kurt didn't cared the rain had soaked him to the bone. The ground was soft and muddy; the sky was dark and haunting. The rain was pouring harder and harder. Kurt walked slowly up to his mother grave and placed the white chrysanthemum down and whispered "Good bye Mommy," as the tears and the rain washed away the pain.

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><p><strong>Please review, it helps me write better stories! <strong>


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